![]() They move surely, unaware that they are about to be trampled. I move my hands away and watch their tiny comings and goings, hoping I haven't ruined their chemical trails. I squat on the grass, placing my palms down on it, as if I could absorb the whole story through my hands. We're quiet for a while, looking up and down the line. I smile at the joke, but turn away so he can't see. "If it looks like a conspiracy, it's probably just incompetence," and says. The doctors that delivered all of us did it as a game, and are giving tattoos to babies like your friend's in order to keep it up." "You've heard the one that says that if the story is told in the right order, the aliens that gave us the tattoos will come back and take us away," a man near us says. I wonder if I'll be able to remember the story well enough to tell it. "Do you know, am I supposed to say the whole story or just my word?" I ask. "No one knows why or how we have the tattoos, to be honest, or what the larger meaning is, if there is one." "Do they really have it right this time?" "You remember the last time-you wouldn't, child-the story made no sense," and says. He rubs it into my neck, though it doesn't need to be rubbed in. and takes the can and sprays the back of my legs. My new white shoes have grass stains on the toes. He hands me a can and I spray it on my bare arms, on my shorts and my legs. "They think they got it right this time."Īnd yawns, then runs his fingers over the stubble on his chin. "Is the story going right to left again this time, does anyone know?" "Most of my friends are tattooed, too," the woman says, looking up the line. So she had to hire a sitter for today to stand in line and say Sera's word because all of our friends are here and none of us are close to Sera's space in the line." To replace someone who died, Carrie said. "My best friend, Carrie, she just had a baby, Sera," I say. They tested mine and told my mom it was a birthmark-that there was no actual ink there." The wind picks up, and I can smell her perfume: cinnamon and warm earth. Well, you know, the words were different. He must have been teased with that tat, growing up. He's a big guy, gruff-looking, but with a deep, calm voice. "Like it was the end of the world or something," girl says softly. She reminds me of my own mother, dark hair and soft, capable arms. "I remember my mother said she was so afraid that there was something wrong with me, with this tattoo on the back of my neck." The woman laughs. "Let her alone," a woman on the other side of him says, "It's not just the '09 babies that were born with tattoos." Are you? You're awfully young," and says. The morning sun is bright, and the line of people is long. The man on the other side of me, his tattoo says girl. The man to the right of my place in the line, the tattoo on the back of his neck says and.
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